


Nothing Happens as Intended

by frozenCinders



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, cameos from hashirama and izuna, if you like madara pwease give my dumb rarepair fic a chance, madara is just ridiculous is all, this is like purgatory between valid and crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27881410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenCinders/pseuds/frozenCinders
Summary: "Tell me you wouldn't hate it if your dear secretary was whipped for me. Tell me it wouldn't piss you off."In which Madara relentlessly pursues Tobirama's assistant for little more than the sake of a joke and ends up falling in actual love like an idiot.
Relationships: Uchiha Madara/Yakushi Kabuto
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Nothing Happens as Intended

**Author's Note:**

> extremely canon divergent au; here are the most major changes made:
> 
> • izuna still had that fight with tobirama, but allowed madara to accept help from the senju afterwards instead of swaying him against them; he made a full recovery
> 
> • kabuto was born in founder era and is probably about his shippuden age in this (so 23) if not a year or two younger
> 
> the rest of the details can easily be gathered just by reading the fic, i'm sure..! if i'm wrong, please direct any questions to me in the comments.
> 
> and for the love of god i'm sorry for having rarepair disease

Madara is usually stuck in the main office with Hashirama, sorting through his paperwork to prioritize it for him, lest he drown in forty five identical requests to find that one woman's fucking cat again. The stupid thing had just tunnelled under the house a bit in her backyard-- Madara found it himself in about five minutes, fuming from the moment he saw how many requests she'd submitted and then onward until he'd fallen asleep for the night. Hashirama had taken more amusement than entirely necessary from the way Madara was mumbling his pissed off little curses all day as he screwed up his face at anything that appeared vaguely cat-shaped at first glance.

That stupid tiny pot thing Mito gave Hashirama that sits on his desk collecting dust earned more than a few glares from Madara that day. Apparently, it's supposed to be some other animal, but Madara never allows that information to do more than graze across his brain no matter how many times he's told as he continues thinking of it as a cat. He'll have to remember to slap it with another death glare later today just so it doesn't get too comfortable.

Onto more important matters than being one of the Hokage's aides: Madara has a personal mission to fulfill lately. He has a very well known "rivalry" with Tobirama, but the man has no discernable weaknesses. To compensate, Madara has been targeting Tobirama's somewhat newly hired assistant.

Kabuto is skilled in analysis and has "people skills", along with a fussy knack for organizing, while voicing no complaints whatsoever no matter how questionable a task he's assigned is, making him the perfect choice for a hardass like Tobirama. Of course, "people skills" just amounts to acting and manipulation of various degrees, but he's good at it nonetheless. He also happens to be a doctor, but Tobirama always has him cooped up in his office with him, so it's not like he's ever doing any healing.

Kabuto's skills aren't what interest Madara; it's only the fact that Tobirama values him and keeps him close that puts a target on his back. Of course, Madara isn't malicious-- no, his goal isn't to _kill_ Kabuto. It's just to earn his affection, to the point where Kabuto prefers Madara. He thinks it'd be hilarious if Tobirama's own perfect assistant sided with Madara due to bias during their many arguments.

Unfortunately, Madara doesn't do anything in halves, and has thus placed entirely too much importance on this funny little past time of his. He recognizes fully that things have gotten out of hand, but he's not about to admit defeat to Tobirama's stupid, tattooed face.

Tobirama is always quick to cut Madara off at the pass. Whenever he so much as looks at Kabuto, Tobirama suddenly invents some arbitrary task for him to go do. Out of frustration, Madara kept promising to up the ante the next time he actually got a chance at Kabuto, and it doesn't help that because of Tobirama, Madara never has any time to make a move. Basically, the goal has escalated from befriending Kabuto to fucking him, though the purpose behind Madara's intentions remains the same.

Today, though. Today, he has time. Just one last check of the office and Madara is off the clock until tomorrow morning. The paperwork is neatly organized, the "done" pile actually _larger_ than the "to do" pile for once, the momentum of which will hopefully extend so that Hashirama doesn't fall behind again. Madara's own personal work, he's completely caught up on. Just one last glance around the room, and he'll...

There, on Hashirama's desk, in the margins of the "notes" he was pretending to take during this morning's meeting, is a drawing: a shitty, mischievous-looking caricature of Madara with huge, sharp teeth biting onto the entire forearm of a frankly stunningly accurate Tobirama-- all stonefaced and stiff as a board while cartoonish teeth tear through his arm.

Madara snorts and leaves the paper alone, amused enough to allow Hashirama to keep his art piece. Finally, he ascertains that he really is done for the day, and he rushes to Tobirama's office, whom he knows is still in the building.

Like clockwork, the second Madara walks into the room...

"Kabuto, do me a favor and refill my coffee."

Madara pulls a face that bears a striking resemblance to a pout as he watches Kabuto immediately get up and leave with Tobirama's coffee mug-- still half fucking full, no doubt.

Madara marches over to Tobirama's desk and slams his hands down on it. In the eye of Madara's mind, a guilty little pleasure somewhere in the back of his head, Tobirama flinches. In real life, of course, he does not.

"You always do this shit," he growls.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Tobirama retorts. "Consider me HR."

"You really are mad about it. Ha!"

"I find it annoying and monumentally inconsiderate that you're trying to, I _guess,_ bed my assistant just to prove some sort of point to me?" Tobirama wrinkles his nose slightly and waves a hand like he's dismissing the idea and even Madara entirely, switching his focus to the paper in his other hand.

"Tell me you wouldn't hate it if your dear secretary was whipped for me. Tell me it wouldn't piss you off."

Madara is leaning one hand on the desk now, the other cockily resting on his hip.

"I think you're a little too obsessed for that to be the extent of it. Have you considered that you might have "feelings"?" Tobirama says, flat and uninterested. Madara hates it when Tobirama disengages from him and starts brushing him off with casual remarks like this. At least put up a real fucking fight.

"I'm not leaving," Madara informs him, equal parts smug and annoyed. "I have all night. How long do you have?"

Tobirama leans back in his chair enough to push it a few inches away from the desk, dropping the paper he was reading in favor of pinching the bridge of his nose and silently holding the position like it soothes him.

"Tired of squinting all day, stubborn bastard? Have you seen an optometrist yet?"

"Have you?" Tobirama shoots back. They glare at each other, both equally and unreasonably stubborn. Somehow, a long time ago now, they'd accidentally started an unspoken competition to see who would give in and show up wearing glasses first. Since neither of them can stand to lose, Madara predicts that they'll both be stumbling around blindly someday, flinging insults at various inanimate objects that they'd mistaken for each other.

"Ah. You've usually disappeared by the time I get back, Mr. Madara," Kabuto interrupts their staring contest from the doorway.

"Yes, well, I usually don't have much time to spare. This time, however, I have until 6 AM tomorrow to do whatever the hell I please," Madara says, pushing off of Tobirama's desk with enough force to audibly rattle it. "Camaraderie is important, wouldn't you agree? This village was built on the foundation of it."

Madara barely catches a mutter of "oh my lord, not this," from Tobirama.

"I... suppose so, yes. Is there more to your question?"

"I can't allow Tobirama to keep cutting me off from ever interacting with you. I know you're sharp enough to notice that he does it on purpose."

As Madara speaks to him, Kabuto sets the refilled mug in front of Tobirama. The fresh coffee is a sign that he's probably planning to stay overnight to finish his work. Luckily, Kabuto is a creature of habit, and will almost certainly go home before 9 PM, like always.

The idea of bothering Kabuto without Tobirama around to see is less appealing, but he acknowledges it as an important opportunity.

"In fact," he says, his sudden realization apparent and genuine in his voice, "why don't I walk you home? We can talk on the way."

"Uh..."

Tobirama shoots Kabuto a "you're not leaving unless it's in a body bag" glare, but he doesn't even have to look at Tobirama to get the message.

"Actually, I was planning to stay overnight to help Mr. Tobirama with his work."

So much for his routine. Seeing that he's making zero progress, Madara gives Tobirama one last bitter look before leaving. It's a chilly evening, and Madara's pride stops him from attempting to warm himself on the way home. He just makes do with two thin layers of clothing and suppresses the chattering of his teeth with sheer will.

That is, until he gets home and crashes into bed, telling himself he'll never get out from under the blanket again.

* * *

"Kabuto," Madara calls, catching him as soon as he walks into the building. "We didn't have a chance to talk much yesterday. Come to lunch with me today."

"Oh, that's not... I'm really not such good company, and I'd feel bad if you spent money on me," Kabuto declines, a hand raised politely.

"Then let me disappoint myself and I'll leave you alone. And you can pay for your own food if that bothers you so much," Madara cuts down Kabuto's arguments. If he's going to say no, he should at least have the decency of saying it's because he simply doesn't want to.

He looks around, probably hoping to spot Tobirama so he can be assigned to go stand outside for no reason until Madara has left the lobby.

"... I guess some company during lunch might be nice," he says. Madara almost argues before he realizes Kabuto was agreeing.

"What, really? That easy?" Madara asks to be sure, blinking in surprise.

"Mr. Tobirama isn't here to shoo you away this time. Who knows whether he'd tell me not to go, since he's not here?"

"What are you talking about? He's always--"

"Since I can't possibly know, I'd better go with you just in case. You two have been friends for a long time, after all. Wouldn't want to disappoint either of you."

Ah. It belatedly sinks in that Kabuto is being facetious. That helplessly smug smirk on his face is oddly attractive... Maybe Madara's constant advancements have been messing with his own head a bit.

"I get the joke now, but if you ever refer to myself and Tobirama as "friends" again, don't expect your head to stay on your shoulders," Madara warns him.

"You don't think lord Hashirama would want it that way?"

"Don't bring him into this." That idealistic dolt. Not that he can say that part out loud, since people might get the wrong idea.

Now that he's finally talking to Kabuto one on one, he's learning that he's a bit too cocky for his own good. The word feisty comes to mind, and Madara decides he likes it.

"And if it isn't obvious, you're not to say a word of this to--"

"To me, I assume?"

Madara immediately whips around and swings at Tobirama, making contact with nothing but air. When he turns back around, Tobirama is standing beside Kabuto.

"Don't FUCKING stand behind me--"

"What is he propositioning from you?" Tobirama leans in to ask, a hand on Kabuto's shoulder as if he's genuinely concerned. Madara scowls at him.

"Oh, nothing. Actually, he was offering to do me a favor..."

"What favor?"

That's funny. Madara would like to know, too.

"Just buying lunch, is all," he says, the little shit. Although Madara guesses he did imply he was willing to pay for it in the first place, Kabuto had made a fuss about not wanting him to just a minute ago.

"How generous," Tobirama says flatly, attention sliding back to Madara-- or maybe landing on him for the first time.

"And Kabuto here said he'd just hate to disappoint me," Madara adds, twisting Kabuto's words right back at him, since Madara is nothing if not spiteful. "I would certainly be _very_ disappointed if his boss were to force him to bail on me. Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"See, wouldn't that be sad?" Kabuto agrees, not bothered at all.

"... Why are you two teaming up all of a sudden?" Tobirama asks with narrowed eyes, then sighs. "Not that it matters. Do as you like."

With that, Tobirama goes on ahead to his office. With one last glance at Madara, almost hidden by the way he adjusts his glasses, Kabuto follows him. Madara manages to keep the skip out of his step on the way to Hashirama's office despite his small victory.

"Oh, Madara! Save me, I'm already drowning!" Hashirama yells as soon as he opens the door.

Of course, flanking Hashirama's desk are two person-high piles of paperwork, and one closer to the height of a child. A disgusting little family.

As Madara gets to work organizing it, starting with separating the new work from the old that it had been piled on top of, he can't help but think he might like Kabuto's help with this.

In fact, he thinks about him all damn day. The hours pass slowly and he glances at the clock more often than usual, ending up visibly forlorn every time he sees that only twenty minutes have passed since the last time he'd checked. Hashirama notices and gives him a curious look, but there's no way in hell Madara is letting him in on the situation. Maybe after he's won, but definitely not before.

Luckily, time is forced to pass eventually, and lunch time does arrive at some point despite its best efforts to stay away. Madara eyes the time like a hawk once it gets to be around 11:50, and as soon as it strikes noon, he's gathering up the remainder of his work into his usual sloppy but organized system and attempting to walk out.

"Wait, Madara!" Hashirama stops him. "What's for lunch today?"

Fuck, that's right. They've gotten accustomed to getting lunch together, but Madara was so focused on Kabuto today that he completely forgot about their routine.

"Uh... I'll bring you something later," he says vaguely, having no idea what Kabuto prefers.

"You're not eating in here..? Aw..."

Hashirama takes it hard, but he'll bounce back within seconds if Madara knows him at all.

He should probably be embarrassed by how quickly he speedwalks through the building, at such a pace that he has to struggle to keep his breathing perfectly even by the time he reaches Tobirama's office-- why it wasn't placed just beside Hashirama's, Madara refuses to understand. He takes a second to mentally prepare himself, consciously stopping himself from kicking the door down, and opens it gently like how a human would do it.

"Ka--..."

Kabuto is not present, it seems.

"Fuck," Madara swears under his breath, immediately glaring at Tobirama.

"Relax, you can have your date in just a moment," Tobirama says, the faintest hint of a smirk on his face. "He'll be back soon."

"... And what are you smiling about, exactly?" Madara asks, suspicious.

He looks up from his papers to properly address Madara now.

"Might I remind you that it's only you who insists I care who you get into a relationship with? I was only fending you off because I wasn't sure Kabuto would have appreciated the attention. He keeps to himself."

He doesn't care, huh? Madara calmly approaches Tobirama's desk and sets his hands on it, bending to be at eye level with Tobirama.

"I'm gonna bend him over your desk one day," he promises with a smirk.

"That's inappropriate," Tobirama chides him, unfazed. "Your change in personality is impressive, by the way. You're composed when _he's_ in the room, and then you become a child when it's just us."

"Like attracts like, you spoiled brat."

"And how in the hell am I "spoiled"? As if you Uchihas don't act like you deserve the world just because you have funny eyes."

"At least I leave your fucking clan out of our arguments, whore."

Tobirama recoils, genuine shock taking over his face.

"Wh... what did you just call me?!"

Madara laughs, satisfied enough by that response. He pushes off the desk to cross his arms instead, silently willing to disengage from their tiff. Tobirama has recovered from his shock and instead sports an expression somewhere between a scowl, a pout, and an old man trying to read some very small writing. Leave it to Tobirama, famous inventor of all sorts of techniques, to invent a whole new facial expression.

"Oh... I'm sorry, we must have just missed each other," Kabuto says, making his presence suddenly known. "I actually went looking for you just now..."

"Did you think I would have forgotten?"

"No, you're too persistent for that. I just thought you might have gotten a bit absorbed in work; I hear you have a lot of it. Why don't you have your own office, anyway?"

"I don't need a damn office, I spend too much time in Hashirama's--"

"Lord Hokage," Tobirama quickly corrects, which Madara ignores completely.

"--to justify having my own anymore. Hell, you've actually got what was supposed to be my desk, Kabuto," he finishes, gesturing at the desk in question with a jab of his thumb.

"I... have _your_ desk..?"

His reaction draws a smug smirk out of Madara.

"Oh? How does that make you feel?" he goads, but Kabuto just shakes his head.

"Sorry, I was just shocked that you and Mr. Tobirama were expected to work in the same room together," he says.

"I know!" Madara concurs immediately, in too much agreement to bother being disappointed by Kabuto not actually caring. "That damned Hashirama gets a kick out of torturing me, I swear!"

"As if it would have been pleasant and leisurely for me," Tobirama chimes in, agreeing in his own way. Madara points at him without sparing him a glance.

"Fuck yourself," he says, nonchalantly. Kabuto suppresses a snicker, covering it with a cough, but Madara is too quick to catch on.

"And you as well," is Tobirama's response, just as calm.

"So where are we going for lunch?" Madara asks, changing the subject like there hadn't even been a previous one.

"Tea and dumplings sounds nice, if you don't mind. I've been getting cravings since a couple days ago, actually..."

In an ideal situation, they'd sit and eat outside with nobody else around, at a time late enough where they could watch the sunset together. Watching the sky change colors has always been a wonder to Madara, successfully capturing his full attention and leaving passersby to walk confusedly around him as he stares in a trance.

But a standard midday outing is what he's getting, and it'll have to do. Walking to the teahouse with Kabuto feels unexpectedly awkward, as Madara had failed to plan for actually getting this far. He fumbles around in his mind for anything to say, hoping he isn't making any ridiculous facial expressions while he's at it.

"What's your chakra nature?" is what he ends up breaking the ice with. Not exactly a romantic question, and Madara cringes inwardly as he asks it.

"Ah... I'm not so good with natures, actually," Kabuto answers with a shy chuckle that somehow manages to knock the wind out of Madara. "See, medical ninjutsu doesn't require a change in chakra nature..."

"I see... I'm sure it comes with its own set of difficulties," Madara says as if he doesn't already know. He'd tried to figure out medical ninjutsu when he was a teenager and Izuna had broken a bone. It proved much too difficult for Madara, and he was told his temperament was to blame.

"Well, anything can be easy to learn if you start from a young age. Being raised by a medic, I was learning how to heal before I knew much of anything else."

"An opposite upbringing to mine, then," Madara comments, voice holding idle fascination. "Rather than heal, the first thing I learned was how to kill."

Maybe... he shouldn't have said that. Kabuto doesn't react negatively, but Madara does recall that this is supposed to be a date, and assumes that was an inappropriate topic to suddenly bring up.

Besides, he doesn't need Kabuto remembering that the whole damn village scorns him as a mindless killing machine, even now.

"Well... keep in mind that healing isn't _all_ I was taught," Kabuto says.

Madara was so caught up thinking of him as a medic who's always cooped up in an office that he'd completely forgotten that there's blood on Kabuto's hands too. A sudden mental image of him under moonlight, snapping a stranger's neck with ease, has Madara's blood pumping a little faster.

Despite Madara's less than ideal choice of conversation topics, their little discussion does manage to pass the time well enough. From here on, Madara decides, the date will be perfect.

While they're waiting on their drinks, Madara starts thinking too hard and blanks on what to say again. Luckily, Kabuto speaks first this time. Maybe he's intuitive enough to realize a situation like this is absolutely not Madara's forte-- or maybe it's not intuition and Madara is floundering more obviously than he'd hoped.

"Obviously, you're good at things other than fighting... even if that might be contrary to what people believe," he says, eyeing back the customers in the teahouse that look terrified to see Madara there. "I'd like to hear some examples."

"Of... things I'm good at?"

Madara attempts to clear his mind completely of violence. He thinks himself a decent cook and is a split second away from mentioning it before he thinks cooking might be too close to violence. There's slicing, stabbing, burning, sometimes you have to skin an animal... maybe cooking is out.

Then he thinks to mention that he likes to read, but most of what he reads is related to battle tactics and war. There's no way he could get away with just saying he reads but not elaborating on _what_ he reads.

"I... train hawks," he manages not to stammer, the words barely tumbling out after a silence that dragged on for much too long. "Not to fight. They're like pets."

"Oh. I'm a little surprised, but it does suit you, somehow," Kabuto says. "What made you want to train them?"

Their drinks are set in front of them as he's scrambling for a decent answer. He takes the opportunity to quietly thank the server and take a sip of tea, hoping the drink will calm him.

"They're such large, majestic creatures. I guess I just found myself fascinated by them," Madara says. He hadn't thought much before about the reasoning for doing it, just knew that he had to ever since the first time he happened to see a hawk taking flight.

"I don't have any impressive hobbies like that," Kabuto says, diverting his attention to his drink and noticeably failing to look back up at Madara. "I'm probably exactly what you'd expect just by looking at me. I read, I keep things nice and neat... well, I do have a collection of scalpels that may be a little more extensive than strictly necessary, but they all have their uses. Taking care of them is a relaxing routine for me."

"Here I was thinking it'd be funny if you were actually rather disorganized at home."

"Oh, at home? Honestly, it probably looks like a mess. I know where everything is, and it's all easy to clean and access, so it's organized enough for me."

Madara finds himself wanting to see Kabuto's home now. He almost asks, but their food arrives and successfully distracts both of them.

Without thinking, Madara gets two sizeable dumplings into his mouth in about one second, and it's fine at first. It's when he does this a third time that his body begins to protest at how quickly he's putting the food away and Madara has to pause, waiting with a wince for the torture in his throat to subside.

"Are you alright?" Kabuto asks, a little incredulous and a little amused. "You should really slow down."

Fuck. It's such a habit of his that Izuna gave up scolding him on it long ago, and he'd thus forgotten that it was even abnormal. Of course most people don't eat too much too quickly and end up almost choking to death two or three times a day.

Caught between annoyance and embarrassment, Madara smacks the side of his head with the heel of his palm. When he brings himself to look at Kabuto, he's got this oddly gentle smile on his face that just manages to fluster Madara even more.

"What's that look for?" he demands, automatically puffing up defensively. "I won't die from something stupid like this."

"Mr. Madara, is it possible that you're nervous..?" Kabuto asks, probably trying so damn hard not to sound mischievous but failing nonetheless.

"I... if I were nervous, I'd--"

Constantly overthink, fuck up, and embarrass himself? Alright, he's nervous, then. He just scoffs and turns away, willing the heat in his face to cool off already.

"You know, I don't mind seeing you like this at all."

The comment is so offhanded that it almost slips under Madara's radar.

"... But, unfortunately, we should head back soon. Our hour is just about up, after all, if we factor in the time it takes to get back," Kabuto tells him. Madara had completely forgotten they were on a time limit.

Shit, he said he'd get Hashirama something, too.

"Uh... go on ahead. Spare me the embarrassment of walking beside you with my face as red as it is."

"Just this once," Kabuto says, and it sounds suspiciously like a threat.

He finishes his food and brings his tea up to finish it before he pauses in apparent realization.

"Are you still covering the tab?" he asks to be sure. "I can pay if you--"

"Yeah, yeah, just go," Madara urges, refusing to look at him anymore. "I thought you were taking mercy on me?"

He swears he can hear Kabuto smile and then, a few brief seconds later, he sets his cup down.

"Thank you," he says, closer to Madara than he'd been the last time he'd looked up at him. "It was nice."

"For god's sake, leave before I start breathing fire," Madara grumbles.

Kabuto laughs and leaves him in relative peace, as requested. He seems pleased enough by the outing, but Madara feels smothered by failure. The next one will have to be absolutely perfect or his pride might not survive.

He doesn't know Hashirama's preference for dumplings in particular, and he honestly doesn't think he'll be able to look at the things for a while without getting infuriated, so he asks for some natto and a few sauces to go. They're packed so neatly that Madara gets back to the tower slower than he would have liked, out of hesitance to jostle the contents of the bag.

Because the last time Hashirama had gotten room temperature natto he'd had a fit, Madara breathes the smallest bit of fire to heat the container before he enters the building, carefully controlled so as not to cause a crisis just from reheating some food. He glances at the clock in the lobby and notices he's about ten minutes late, but Hashirama won't give him trouble for it. Tobirama would, if they actually ended up sharing that office after all.

Unfortunately, Hashirama isn't appreciative enough of Madara bringing him food to not pry into why he decided to eat without him today.

"If you needed some space, you know you could just tell me! I just want to know," he insists.

How is Madara supposed to tell him he just stumbled through an incredibly awkward date with Tobirama's assistant, who he only started pursuing in the first place as a joke?

"Why don't you go eat lunch with your wife sometime, huh?!" Madara asks instead, too irritable when he's flustered.

Hashirama recoils with wide eyes as if Madara said something unthinkable.

"Madara... do you have a wife you haven't told me about..?"

Shit, this is bad. If he doesn't manage to convince Hashirama that what he's just made is an outrageous assumption, he'll have to deal with what might turn out to be the most powerful sulking of all time.

"N... no, see, I--"

"Madara... really, how could you..."

"Just listen, you idiot! If I ever got married, you'd at least be invited to the wedding, I swear it on my life! Calm down and stop jumping to conclusions!"

"Oh, that's what I thought to begin with!" Hashirama chirps, perking up at the drop of a hat. "You'll have to promise to make me your best man!"

"Bastard, so that was your goal?! I already told Izuna he'd be my best man if..."

Hashirama lowers his head again, shoulders slumped in sorrow.

"I... guess I could... just have... two..?" Madara tries.

It works well enough, because when Hashirama raises his head, it's with a wide, contagious smile. Madara, however, has built up a stubbornly high tolerance.

He's almost grateful to have endless mounds of work to distract him from today's disaster.

* * *

Madara has been avoiding Kabuto all week, though he's trying to be subtle about it. It's not that he's afraid or anything absurd like that, he just... isn't ready to face him, is all. He has to figure out a way to redeem himself first-- earn some respect back.

There is _one_ idea toiling about in his head... Madara caught word just yesterday that there's going to be a masquerade ball over the weekend. He'd make sure to go to such a thing even if it killed him, and he's sorely tempted to drag Kabuto along with him. He would have done it without hesitation if not for how badly he feels he embarrassed himself last time, and it would be in front of so _many_ fucking people this time...

Luckily, he tells himself, it'll be so crowded that people won't even think to pay attention to Madara in particular, especially with him being in disguise. The only one who should have eyes on him that night is Kabuto, and if Madara were to have his way, he'd be unable to bring himself to look anywhere else.

Occasionally, throughout the day, he finds these little excuses to pass by Tobirama's office, hoping to find the courage in a moment of clarity to demand that Kabuto accompany him this weekend. His pride so fears being wounded further, though, that his gaze only lingers on the door as he walks by, not stopping for a moment.

When he does finally have a reason to go inside the office, steeling himself to say something whether he likes it or not, Kabuto is not present.

"When will he be back?" Madara starts asking before he's even stepped into the room.

"Not today. He asked for the day off."

He sets the papers he'd brought on Tobirama's desk and crosses his arms. Now he feels silly, having tried so many times to approach Kabuto today only to discover he isn't even in the tower.

"What do you even do in here?" Madara asks upon realizing he doesn't even know. "I mostly sort out Hashirama's priorities, but I don't know where the hell your paperwork even comes from."

He looks at the top page now that he cares enough to pay attention to it, and it's some kind of requisition form.

"Where do you think the "low priority" work goes? Someone has to pay attention to it, but it can't be just anyone, as the little things can add up to big problems if they're not handled correctly. But my brother can't be doing that himself because he has more important work to deal with. There simply isn't enough time."

Madara recalls a time when he'd heard Tobirama lamenting over the fact that humans require sleep in order to function properly. Madara appreciates the built-in excuse to take a break, personally.

"I'm also the one who handles matters related to the tower itself. Expansions, supplies-- actually, most new hires go through me as well unless my brother brought them in himself," he goes on, not sounding at all like he's planning to stop anytime soon.

"Yeah, I get it now," Madara says, hurried and dismissive. "Sorry, but I don't have all day."

Tobirama begrudgingly accepts his reasoning for cutting him off, easing up on his glare to get back to work instead.

"There really isn't enough time, though..." he says, more to himself than to Madara. "Perhaps I'd better start delegating more..."

Madara leaves him to his thoughts.

* * *

Before Madara even realizes it, the weekend comes, and he never did get the chance to ask Kabuto to come along with him. Madara had mentioned looking forward to the ball to Hashirama, who decided to be excited for it on his behalf for some reason, so he sends him home a few hours early to give him more time to prepare.

Madara works up the nerve to stop by Tobirama's office before he leaves, but the second he opens the door, Tobirama grumbles "not here" at him after sparing him barely a glance. Madara scoffs and closes the door with just shy of enough force to count as a slam. He really let his chance pass him by because of something as silly as nerves.

When he gets to the Uchiha compound, he takes a detour to recruit Izuna to help him tame his hair, which is an entire beast of its own.

"Oh boy, just how I wanted to spend my entire afternoon," he gripes with a roll of his eyes, but he still comes along without question.

They talk the entire time, and Madara is tempted to finally bring up Kabuto, but he can't figure out how. They talk about other things instead, like the fantasy novels Izuna is currently obsessed with, and the new restaurant that's opening near the compound next month, and the news that apparently one of their cousins is expecting a child soon. As he usually does when he talks with Izuna, he uses it as an opportunity to absorb information about his little brother, finding no interest in talking about himself.

Eventually, as Izuna complains openly about how sore his arms are, Madara takes the brush from him and tells him he's off the hook.

"They probably sell masks at the entrance or whatever, right?" Izuna asks as Madara takes over styling his hair. It's unsettling how soft it is now.

"Doesn't matter to me, I had my own made."

"Yeah, of course you did. You know, you get weirdly into stuff like this," Izuna says, still trying to fuss with Madara's hair even when he bats Izuna's hands away.

"Are you kidding? Dancing is the perfect art form. Masquerades hold a certain air of elegance in particular, _and_ I won't be getting any strange looks from the villagers."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. Or you could just use transformation."

"Bah. It's not the same. I'm not trying to be someone else."

"Just trying to hide? Well, I guess it's fine if everyone's hiding," Izuna teases in his best "annoying little brother" voice. "If the villagers knew how into the arts you are, I bet they'd give you funny looks for a different reason. Especially if they heard you sing!"

Madara swipes at Izuna, who runs clear across the room.

"Oh stop it, I'm not chasing you right now. It'll mess up my hair," Madara says, foregoing his usual chiding that Izuna needs to grow up.

"Wow, okay. So you're saying I can get away with anything right now?"

"Don't make me kill my own brother."

Izuna laughs, but he stops suddenly when he sees what Madara is doing. He walks close enough that Madara can see him in the mirror again as he carefully places a hawk feather behind his ear and flanks it with two smaller, downier feathers. One of his hawks has been with him since she hatched, and he's sentimentally kept a variety of her feathers from each stage of her life. He uses a few hair clips to pin them in place, and it gives him the idea to pin back some more of his hair. The less recognizable he is, the better, after all.

"Oooh, that's a different look," Izuna comments.

"You can leave now," Madara tells him, tone gruff and warning. He doesn't like being observed when he knows he's being vain.

"Gee, thanks, little brother! You're welcome, big brother! Aw, I'm your favorite family member? Well, shucks."

"Don't make me throw you out."

"Whatever. You'd better hurry or you'll be late to your party."

"It's not too late to come with me, you know," Madara offers.

All he gets in response is a "blegh!" and the sound of his front door closing. After applying a few more touch-ups and donning a maroon yukata he never wears, he grabs the mask-- a little thing covered in fine feathers and ending in a shallow beak over his nose-- and places it over his eyes even before leaving his house. It wouldn't do to have people recognize him on the street, after all.

The first sound to meet his ears when he walks in over the gentle murmur of the crowd is that of violins. The second, miraculously, is a familiar voice politely declining drinks from a wandering server. Madara tries to make it look like he isn't rushing to the source of that voice, but he very much is.

The second he catches sight of that silvery hair, he grabs Kabuto's wrist and spins him to face Madara, sliding that hand up to hold Kabuto's own and wrapping the other around his waist. Kabuto is visibly shocked even under the mask at first, but Madara's disguise must be easier to see through than he'd hoped.

"It's nice to see you too, but I'm here for work, not fun," he says, though he lets Madara lead him in a dance anyway. "I have a mission..."

Madara ignores him in favor of losing himself to the atmosphere. The music seems to reverberate through his body and he hums along to it as he moves Kabuto with him. There's something strangely comforting about his scent.

"Do you sing?" Kabuto asks.

Madara stops humming to scoff.

"In a crowd like this? I'm too sober for that."

"Well, I'd say we could easily change that, but... I'm kind of busy here."

Madara doesn't make any moves to release Kabuto, though. He likes feeling his hand in his own, the small of his back under his clothes. He already feels addicted, and he has no idea how he'll ever let go.

"Mr. Madara--"

"Just... Madara," he corrects. A slight smile finds its way onto Kabuto's face.

"Alright, Madara... you do realize you're distracting me from my mission?" Kabuto reminds him again.

He has a response ready, he swears, but Kabuto grabs Madara's chin and gives him a kiss and every thought in his head floats off into space, never to be seen again. His arms tighten around Kabuto, but before he can kiss back, he has already pulled away and started unpeeling the stubborn limbs from around him. Madara is stronger, but Kabuto isn't weak, and there's something satisfying about how he can force his way out of Madara's grip.

Only because he has a mission, huh? Madara's chest buzzes, feeling vaguely like something is shifting around in there. He feels oddly... tender, or something.

Was Tobirama maybe right about something for once? Unconsciously, Madara makes a sour face at the thought. This should have been a huge victory for him, but he feels like he's been bested. It's confusing and irritating, how he actually prefers this outcome.

He stays a while, indulging in a couple of drinks and dancing with a few strangers that take a fleeting fancy to him. He can't say it isn't fun, but there's no spark like when he had Kabuto in his arms.

Madara can't help but wonder what the details of Kabuto's mission happen to be. Why is he infiltrating a party like this? Is he planning to dance like that with whoever his target is? Well, at this point, he probably would have done it already.

No, that's absurd, Madara is just projecting out of jealousy-- a feeling he has no justification in even encountering. It's more likely that the ball attracted someone from outside the village...

Well, he already has to interrogate Kabuto about that sudden kiss, so he supposes he'll make some time to ask about his mission as well.

* * *

It's with purpose that Madara slams open the door to Tobirama's office. Neither he nor Kabuto bat an eye, too used to him barging in on them. Kabuto happens to be in the middle of walking the short distance to Tobirama's desk, handing him forms to double check. Madara stops right beside him, expecting to be acknowledged, but Kabuto just turns to walk back to his desk.

"What? Just going to ignore me?" Madara complains.

Kabuto turns his head to look at him and smiles. He steps closer and, not really sudden at all but still managing to shock Madara, wraps his arms around him in a warm, sweet embrace. Endearment and satisfaction flood his head, even after Kabuto breaks away, still not offering him so much as a single word.

Madara stands there, delightfully stunned and scratching at his chest like he's searching for the arrow that has struck him.

"Who's whipped for whom?" Tobirama quips.

"You," Madara points at him without looking at him, "shut the hell up. Anyway, Kabuto, we need to talk about last night."

The sound of Tobirama fumbling papers to the floor draws Madara's attention.

"Last... don't tell me you two actually--"

"Please relax, Mr. Tobirama. Mr. Madara saw me unexpectedly at the party my mission brought me to is all," Kabuto assures him, conveniently leaving out the part about the kiss. "You might want to take this opportunity to stretch your legs."

Tobirama collects the papers he'd dropped and arranges them on his desk, glancing between them and Kabuto-- with a single little glare spared for Madara at some point-- before sighing and standing from his chair.

"I'll be back in five minutes," he says on his way out.

Madara doesn't even wait for the door to close.

"Why did you do it?" he asks. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I just... thought I hadn't made a very pleasant impression."

"You're asking why I kissed you, right? Hmm..." Kabuto hums in apparent thought. "I guess I could say it was a way to distract you so I could get away, since it did work out like that..."

Madara's shoulders decline ever so slightly and he looks away. He should have figured.

"But... I don't know. You looked so pretty, and it was nice being in your arms, even if I'm not much of a dancer. I just did it because I wanted to."

He has a few things he wants to say, but his mouth dries up at what Kabuto called him. Who the hell has the nerve to go around calling Madara Uchiha "pretty"? Like he's some decorative bauble that's caught Kabuto's fascination?

With a stab to his pride, he admits to himself that that doesn't sound so bad, actually.

"Anyway, is that all you came here for?" Kabuto asks. "You should probably get back to lord Hashirama's office, huh?"

All thoughts of asking Kabuto about his mission have already left his mind, but still he isn't satisfied enough to leave yet.

"Hey... let's leave at the same time today," he says. "I'll walk you home."

It's with a sly little smile that Kabuto says,

"That sounds lovely."


End file.
